


Inside Man

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cage Fights, F/M, Imprisonment, Monster!reader, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Skinwalker!reader, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the reader is abducted by a coven of witches, Dean swears he'll get them back by any means necessary. <br/>But what happens when Team Free Will finds out that the reader just might not be themselves...or even human anymore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> This work does have mentions/implications of rape/non-con. Although neither of those happen, they are and will be brought up throughout the work. PTSD is also mentioned/implied in the reader. The reader is abused, made to fight in gladiator-like battles to the death, and imprisoned in the beginning of this work. BE AWARE. IF ANY OF THESE MAY BE TRIGGERING TO YOU, PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE.

Witches.

Dean hated witches.

They were always smearing blood and God knew what else everywhere.

They were tricky and conniving. They were power-hungry and treacherous.

Whenever a hunt took them into witch territory, Dean's skin crawled. It'd always been that way for him.

But one hunt had completely and irrevocably grounded his hatred for their kind.

The Winchesters had become a band of three a while back when Cas had joined their ranks. And then, they'd swelled to four when, on a werewolf hunt, Y/N had joined their ranks.

She'd been standoffish at first, downright cold sometimes. She'd reminded Dean a lot of Cas in those first few months. She only spoke when it was necessary or when she had a jibe. But after that hunt and several after, a comradery had been built between the four of them.

Y/N was quite the looker. In fact, Dean found her downright hot sometimes. She could drink like a pro and cuss like a sailor. She was smart, quick, witty, and a damn good hunter.

It hadn't taken Dean very long before he'd laid the moves on her. And, to his surprise, it had been her who initiated their first night together. God, the woman was good at everything; hunting, researching, drinking, and sex.

Over months, the tumbles during and after hunts had turned into something more steady. Dean had been reluctant to put any sort of label on it. And Y/N had seemed more than okay with that.

The thing was; Dean found himself feeling things he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He'd kept that all bottled up though. The chances that Y/N felt the same way were slim to none. So they'd both kept on keeping on.

One day, they'd gotten wind of a coven of witches raising hell a few states over. So they'd packed their bags and made the trip. Dean and Sam had faced witches before and they'd always come out on top eventually.

Sure, they'd taken a few licks and gotten some beatings, but nothing had ever gone too wrong. The threat was always there, though. It hung over ever hunter's head. The threat that something could go terribly wrong at the drop of a dime, without any warning at all.

And that hunt had been the one that changed everything.

They'd tracked the coven's location down to a mile radius with the help of Cas. Stupidly, the four of them had split up to comb the area. After three hours of searching, nothing had come up.

Back at the rendezvous spot, Sam and Cas had met up with Dean.

But Y/N never showed up.

The three of them had torn that town apart trying to find her. They'd searched the whole fucking state and come up empty-handed.

The only thing Dean had to show for it was the hunting knife she kept strapped to her calf inside her boot. The blade was flecked with blood. He'd found it in a warehouse beside a burnt-out ring of black soot. That was all.

No blood. No body. And that was almost worse.

Months passed. Eventually, Sam broached the subject of stopping the search. That had been one hell of a fight.

Dean was going to find her, no matter how long it took, no matter what it took. So they'd kept their ears to the ground.

And, on a spur of luck, during a demon exorcism, they'd finally gotten a lead. Amidst the demon's wails and screeches from dousings of holy water, it'd managed to choke out something about a 'hunter bitch' in the possession of some witches. The description it gave fit Y/N to a tee. For the first time, Dean felt himself hope.

 

 

 

Your skin prickled and shivered.

Hunger and aggression buzzed beneath your skin like electricity through wires.

The cement floor was cold beneath the soles of your bare feet. The balled-up square of fabric on the floor that served as your bed was kicked aside with a ragged snarl.

The harsh sound echoed off the bars of the cage. Around and around you paced, desperate for movement, for freedom. The need to fight, to claw and bite and rend flesh was at the forefront of your mind. The thoughts clamored loudly enough to drown out your baser needs.

But hunger had become close on the heels of all that. Your stomach was a hollow, empty pit that constantly growled for sustenance.

The only times they hadn't fed you was when you were doing something wrong. Like when you'd first arrived. You'd been bad then. And they'd done bad, bad things.

You needed to figure out what they wanted before they started doing those again.

With another snarl, you raked your claws over the bars of your cage. The metal let out a shriek of protest that had your ears ringing. But the unpleasant sound helped clear your head a little.

They'd wanted you to fight, to kill. You hadn't done it at first. It'd seemed wrong. Now it was all you knew. Killing kept you warm and fed and safe.

So you killed everything they set in front of you. It felt...like the only thing to do.

When you were in the Cage, you killed.

And if you didn't, bad things.

So it made no sense why they weren't feeding you anymore. They put others in your cage. You killed them.

That's what they'd always wanted. For you to kill.

A distressed mewl whined its way between your teeth as your stomach gurgled.

You would do anything for food, for water.

 

 

 

Dean's heart jumped into his throat.

"She's what? Where? We'll pack and head out-" Dean grabbed his jacket and was half-out of his chair when he caught the looks on Sam's and Cas' faces.

Dread swirled in the pit of his stomach, sucking hope down with it like a black-hole.

"What?" He asked, voice booming in the sudden quiet. " _Goddammit_ , someone tell me."

"Y/N is no longer human, Dean." Cas' words sent cold shivers slithering down Dean's spine.

Y/N...not human? What was she? What had the witches _done_ to her?

Dean swallowed and curled his hands into fists as he sat back down slowly.

"W-what is she? What'd they make her?" He could barely get the words out.

"She appears to be some bastardized form of a skinwalker."

Dean's head dropped as he raised one hand to scrub over his face. There was no cure for that.

"That's not all."

Dean let out a harsh bark of a laugh.

"Of course it isn't."

"This underground ring; they pit creatures, monsters to fight against one another...To the death."

Cas leaned away from the wall.

"Y/N is the undisputed champion."

Dean's eyes flipped between Sam and Cas.

"What does that mean?"

Sam grimaced, looking at his brother with that pity-filled gaze he got when he told families bad news.

"Dean, it means that she's killed everyone, everything they've pitted against her."

"Well, that's not so bad-"

"She's killed innocents turned simply for the sport. Newborn vampires, just-turned werewolves, skinwalkers barely bitten. All of them. Some no older than their adolescent years."

Cas' voice cracked over the table and made Dean's skin crawl.

"What're you saying?"

Blue eyes slid away from his with a saddened glaze.

"Y/N might not be _Y/N_ anymore."

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The bars of your cage clanged as they slid open.

You glanced up from your position curled among the stained blankets you called a bed. The scratchy material crinkled with your movement.

Your vision was blurred with hunger and the need for violence thundered through your veins at the sight of the tall, indistinct shape in the doorway. The tell-tale band of dark leather circled its throat, marking it as prey.

In a slow, sinuous movement, you rolled to your hands and knees. Claws sharpened, scratching against the cement. Fangs slid free in your mouth, blood bursting upon your tongue with a heady taste. Bones popped and shifted. Skin tightened and tore before snapping into place and healing. Your tail lashed behind you with aggression.

A low, vicious snarl issued from between your bared fangs as your ears flattened to your skull.

The figure in the doorway spun, shaking the bars with its fists with a cry. When it realized it was trapped with you, it turned again and began speaking.

Noises fell from its mouth pleadingly, then threateningly as you stalked closer...and closer...and closer.

You swiped out a paw to test the waters. The creature hissed loudly, snapping fangs.

 _Vampire_ , your mind dimly drudged up the word.

Memories, dull and jarring ran scattered through your head. Images of humanoid figures with long teeth and great strength, two men and another with blue eyes who radiated power, blood spraying hot over arms and a long blade.

You shook it all away and returned your attention to the thing before you.

With a yowl, you were on it's chest, claws sinking into flesh. Your muzzle opened wide before clamping down around the throat with the leather collar. The creature's terrified screams were cut off when you snapped your jaw shut. Choked gurgles passed between its lips as it thrashed beneath you. But your claws were buried deep. With every one of its wriggling attempts to free itself, your teeth sank deeper into flesh and muscle.

Until, with a pop and a series of head-shakes, its head rolled from its neck.

Blood coated your muzzle, the hot liquid acting like a balm to your parched throat. Something popped loudly outside the bars of your cage.

A sharp pain flared in your hip. Drowsiness had you glancing up from your kill blearily. Strong hands grabbed a hold of your ruff and jerked you back from the body. Your head cracked against the cement as you were unceremoniously released. The creature's remains were dragged away amongst loud word-noises.

The bars clanged shut once more.

 

 

 

 

"They're trying to breed her."

Cas' words had Dean up and pacing around the bunker's library.

They had the place where the whole monster-gladiator thing was going down under eyes. They knew Y/N was there. Cas had popped in a few times to get a lay-out of the place. And what he had to say both was and wasn't good.

Y/N was alive. But she was being starved. She was alive. But she wasn't human. She was alive. But....There were so many ' _but's_ '.

Dean needed to get her out. And it wasn't just her.

This whole operation needed to be shut down. Killing monsters was one thing, but creating them and making them fight one another for sport? The line had to be drawn somewhere.

"That's it. We're taking this whole thing out."

Sam glanced up at Dean's sharpened, harsh tone.

"Dean, we don't have enough people. Even if we called every hunter we know, it'd take them months to get here. and they've got cases of their own. They can't just drop everything."

Anger bloomed in the center of Dean's chest; tight and white-hot.

"Are you saying that we let this thing go on? That we let those witches keep killing? They're turning innocents just for the sport of it, Sam."

"No. I'm saying that we don't have the man power and it would be suicide to go in there blind. Look what happened the last time we did that."

Dean flinched back. Y/N had gotten nabbed, that's what'd happened. They'd gone in blind and Y/N had paid the price.

He bent, bracing his palms on the top of the library's table as his mind spun. There had to be a way... He glanced up, gears clicking into place.

"I'll do it. I'll be the inside man."

That earned mystified, incredulous looks from both Cas and Sam.

"Dean, no-"

"The sheer stupidity of that idea-"

The two of them spoke over one another in raised voices until Dean slammed his hand on the table.

" _Hey_!"

There words cut off suddenly.

"I'll get myself in and get into Y/N's cage somehow. She won't hurt me. She knows me. Cas, you've got, like, a dozen angels at your beck and call. There're a few hunters close-by. We can do this thing. I know we can."

 

 

 

 

They'd finally started putting you back in the Cage.

It was both a relief and torture.

You got to fight out the boiling aggression and need for violence that simmered beneath your skin. It was a relief to feel skin split and bone crack from your blows and bites. It was a relief to become so exhausted you could no longer stand.

It was torture because, in your starved, dehydrated state, you were fighting for your life again. You were weakened to the point where it was all you could do to make it out of the Cage in one piece.

Every night, after the rounds had been won, you were dragged back to your cage and stabbed with a large needle. The needle always brought sleep.

They kept putting creatures in your cage.

At first, the creatures would press themselves against the bars and stay as far away from you as possible. You were too weakened to attempt to kill them. Killing them in your cage, you'd come to realize, wasn't what they wanted. So you let them be and tried to rest.

Resting was hard with strange, unfriendly eyes on you, though. So you fought to stay awake through the strange sleepiness.

Gradually, though, the creatures became bolder. Sometimes they'd try and touch you; hands sliding over your skin or fur. You'd snap and hiss, claws swiping and lips peeling back over fangs.

One of them had been so strong, though. Your feeble attempts to halt his advances hadn't dissuaded him any. In the blink of an eye, you'd been flat on your back on your blankets. Panic had burned in your veins.

Somehow, you'd become lucid; your skin coated with blood, gristle between your teeth. The creature had been draped over you still, eyes dead and throat ripped out.

And you'd made a human-sound of fear. A loud, piercing scream that echoed off the walls and cage bars.

The needle had stabbed you again, sending you into darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean, are you sure about this?"

Sam sounded worried. Hell, the kid sounded more than worried. And he was right to be.

Dean was headed right into the mouth of the lion's den. There was no telling what'd happen when he stepped foot into the hands of the witches. This whole plan hung on him, though. And he'd be damned if he'd let anyone down again.

"Yeah, Sammy. I'll be just fine." Dean gave his younger brother a small smile. "I got you and Cas, an army of angels and a handful of hunters waiting in the wings. What could go wrong?"

Sam returned the smile a little and pulled Dean in for a hug. Dean snorted against his shoulder, but clapped his hand against Sam's back nonetheless.

"Be careful in there, Dean." Sam said, "And be on your guard around everyone. Even Y/N if you find her."

" 'Course, Sammy."

Cas stepped up beside Dean, brow furrowed and mouth pulled tight.

"I'll be listening in on everything. It is imperative that you make this as quick as possible, Dean. Any longer than necessary and I fear the same fate that fell to Y/N will fall on you. I will remove you if it comes close to that, regardless of what you may have to say."

Dean frowned, but nodded.

One last pat-down of his pockets ensured that he was ready to go. He felt kind of naked going in there with only his hunting knife and one gun.

These were witches, notorious for all sorts of nasty spells and traps. The goal was to get caught, but get caught in one piece. Then, find Y/N.

Okay, that part was really more Dean's plan.

The actual plan was to let Cas know when to bring the heat in.

The angels and hunters would storm the place and kill every witch in the place...And creature.

There was no way in hell Dean was gonna let anyone touch Y/N. No matter who or what she was.

She was still a part of them, still a part of their family. And Dean wasn't gonna let her go without a fight. If there was some way of bringing her back, Dean was sure as shit gonna find it.

"Are you ready?" Cas asked, standing a little taller.

Dean nodded again.

"Let's do this."

Cas' fingers gently pressed against his forehead. There was a dizzying lurch of motion and then the earth solidified beneath Dean's feet again.

He flipped open his eyes and straightened his knees.

It was dark; he was in some sort of old factory.

The ceilings were high, metal balconies overlooked the cement floor overhead. Thin, rusted railing wound around them. Old equipment and machines lay like steel and iron corpses around the place. Symbols and marks were painted across the walls in black.

There were faint sounds coming from somewhere. The noises seemed muffled and far-off. Dean took a few steps forward, boots grinding against the floor quietly.

There was a sudden, shrill noise that had him jerking his hands up to cover his ears. He winced at the lance of pain. But the noise was gone just as suddenly as it had come.

He blinked open his eyes again and promptly swore.

Three people; two male and one female had him boxed in. He'd fought worse odds for sure, but the thing was...His feet weren't obeying his commands.

No matter how much Dean tugged at his boots, they remained stuck to the cement. It was like the floor was a magnet and he was a paperclip.

The woman sashayed forward, black skirts swinging around her legs. Long, brown hair curled around her shoulders and neck. A band of rhinestones was settled at the top of her head. Her lips were painted a peachy-pink and stretched into a sickeningly sweet smile.

She reached one hand out, fingertips tracing over the line of Dean's shoulders. And he may not have been able to move his feet, but he sure as hell could move his arms still.

With a jerk, he had his hunting knife out of his boot and slashing at her throat. And with a casual flick of her slim, braceleted wrist, his arms were pinned painfully at his sides. The knife clattered to the floor.

"Dean Winchester."

God, her voice was like fucking nails on a chalk board; all sweet and syrupy. He'd need a week's worth of showers to remove it's sticky cling.

"Witch bitch, I guess?"

Her head tilted back as she laughed; a sound like tinkling bells.

"Your guess is correct. I am a witch. One of the best, in fact. I'd have to be to keep this ship running in tip-top shape!"

"Yeah. Heard all about your little monster-on-monster cage matches."

"Oh. Well, someone's been a busy bee." The witch took a step closer. "So you also must have heard about your sweet, sweet friend. You know, the hunter bitch has made quite the gladiator."

Dean's muscles strained against the witch's control.

"You let her go or I swear I'll rip your fucking lungs out."

That earned another one of her little laughs. The grating sound bounced off the high ceiling.

"Oh, that's quite the threat, seeing as I have you all tied up with no where to go. And it looks like you're all alone, too. Why's that, Dean? Where's your darling brother and that angel friend of your's?"

"They didn't want me to come. So I ditched 'em."

She _tsked_.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. That wasn't very smart. Then again, none of you hunters are really the smart type, are you?" One manicured nail traced the edge of his jaw. "No. But you know what, since you went through all the trouble of delivering yourself to me, I'll let you see your hunter bitch before her last match tonight."

Dean's blood ran cold.

"What do you mean, ' _last match_ '?"

Cas had said that Y/N was undefeated, that no one had ever beaten her...

The witch's eyes widened playfully.

"She's been, well, she's been a very poor bitch. She kills everyone of the breeders we put in her cage. She even tried to eat one. Took a mouthful of the last's throat. And well, bad girls don't get fed. I'm afraid she's been getting very...Frail. Barely managed to win last night's match. I doubt she'll last after tonight."

"You fucking bitch-" Dean lunged with all of his might, making it a few steps before that unseen hold cranked down tightly.

He gasped for air, lungs burning.

"Bring him to her. Oh, and make sure to take his toys before he gets anywhere near her. Mercy killing is such a drag." The witch flounced past, disgustingly floral scent drifting in her wake.

The two men grabbed a hold of Dean and manhandled him across the room. He was unceremoniously divested of his jacket, gun, and flannel.

Metal stairs creaked and groaned beneath their combined weight. And then, Dean got a glimpse of what a monster kennel would look like.

Cages lined the walls of the hall; bars barely wide enough to stick an arm through. Creatures of all sorts were slumped against the bars, on pallets, or wads of blankets. Food bowls and water bowls meant for dogs were placed in the corners of cages.

The place stank to high heaven.

Some of the creatures looked half out of their minds; eyes glazed and staring at nothing in particular. Some screeched and howled. Others sobbed and cried and begged to be freed. The two men knocked long bars of iron against the cages and snarled at them to keep quiet.

From the markings on the ceiling, the whole place was warded for silence. It explained why Dean had heard only muffled sounds and not the ruckus that near deafened him now.

They dragged him past cage after cage, past even the empty ones that looked as if they'd been unused in months. The wailing and moaning faded to a bearable degree before the men stopped.

Dean glanced up just as he heard the scraping noises of bars sliding open. He was shoved forward roughly. The door slammed shut behind him.

There was a wad of ragged blankets on the floor in the corner. The stained material was kneaded around a slender frame he hardly recognized.

That couldn't be Y/N.

It just _couldn't._

Her once-long hair was shorn short and choppy. It was matted and tangled, dirt and blood and God knew what else trapped among the strands.

Her skin was pale and sallow, dark circles ringed her eyes. Old blood and dirt smudged her face, hands, every bit of her skin.

And when she sat up, Dean was struck with the realization that she was naked. Her ribs stuck out, the bones of her hips defined beneath bruised skin.

Yet she seemed unaware of all of this. Her shoulders hunched inward as her lips peeled back from her teeth. Teeth that, before Dean's very eyes, sharpened and lengthened. She let out a loud growl that he associated with a cat ready to defend itself.

There was no trace of Y/N in those Y/E/C eyes.

 

 

 

 

The bars clanged.

Feet shuffled in the entrance.

You rose immediately, getting ready to defend yourself from whatever was about to come your way. Even though you knew you didn't have the energy.

Exhaustion pulled at your limbs like restraints. All you wanted to do was sleep. Sleep made the pain subside.

You weren't hungry any more. The pains in your belly had long since subsided. Thirst, however, was still a constant demand banging around inside your head.

A humanoid figure hovered in the front of your cage. It was male, that much you could tell by its scent and broad frame. He moved slightly and instinctively, you crouched, hissing. His face crumpled, green eyes glinting.

That look...That _face_...

Memories assaulted you.

Green eyes flashing with passion as pink lips parted around a groan. Strong arms swinging a long blade, jaw clenched in concentration. Long, blunt fingers tracing your cheek. The sound of a voice, word-noises indecipherable to you, but the tone soft and heavy all at once.

This man. You knew this man. Somehow, you _knew_ him.

You covered your teeth and carefully sniffed the air.

He smelled clean; no trace of drugs or lust or anger clung to him. His arms hung loosely at his sides. His posture was wide, though, giving you pause.

Slowly, the man crouched, coming to kneel on the floor. His eyes were at level with your's then. The green had yet to lose that look that made something inside you twist.

The man made a noise, a series of them, looking at you intensely.

You tilted your head, trying to understand. He moved then, making you jump back and hiss.

Both of his hands raised in the air, palms forward in a gesture you recognized as placation. He meant no harm.

After a moment, you sniffed again. His scent remained unchanged.

More word-noises issued from his throat. One in particular caught your attention. Your mind snagged on it like a claw in fabric.

More memories rattled around your brain.

The noise, it was his name. _His_.

You needed to let him know you knew him.

Your lips parted, voice-box straining to copy the sound.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean watched as Y/N quivered in the corner.

After a stand-off, she'd seemingly realized that he was a non-threat.

Now, she was crouched, skin shivering as her eyes tracked his every movement.

He talked to her, just rambling about everything he could think of. About how he'd looked for her, had never given up. How he was gonna get her out no matter what. How he'd missed her.

Dean had just about run out of things to say when he heard her make a noise.

" _D-ean?_ "

His name was scratchy and lopsided.

Y/N's frustration clearly evident as she made a face; lips trying to form his name. She took a stammering breath.

"Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean felt something bloom in his chest. "Yeah, baby, that's my name. Do you know who I am?"

Her brows furrowed as her eyes dropped to his mouth. He was struck with the sudden thought that she might not understand what he was saying.

She hadn't recognized him at first...Surely Cas would've mentioned something.

Her eyes jumped back to his.

"Dean." It was an affirmation this time.

Dean slowly nodded his head.

"Yes. And you're Y/N." He watched her lips move silently as she formed the syllables.

Tentatively, she pointed one finger at his chest.

"Dean." She then pointed at herself. "Y/N?"

Dean felt a smile break over his face.

"Yeah, Tarzan, that's your name."

Under normal circumstances, Dean knew Y/N would've laughed at the joke. But this was far from normal, even their brand of normal.

And when her head cocked to the side again and she frowned, Dean felt his insides twist.

 

 

 

 

Dean continuously made word-noises at you.

 _Talking_ , you remembered. It was called talking.

Memories and words slowly trickled back. You and Dean, you'd been... _two_? A _pair_? Pair seemed to fit right.

So he talked while you listened; curled up on your bed as his voice soothed over you.

Everything but Dean faded away; the pain, the thirst, the need for sleep. It all vanished as you watched him lean against the cage bars and breathe and talk.

Until footsteps sounded out in the hall.

Your body immediately went on red-alert. You felt fur skate beneath your skin, teeth pricking through your gums, claws lengthening.

Dean stood, looking like he planned to fight. Fear lanced through you at the prospect. Bad things happened when you fought them. _Bad things_.

" _Dean,_ " You rasped, struggling to find the right sounds. "Not...bite."

His brows furrowed as he processed what you said. You tried again.

"Bite them... _Bad_." Your throat seized up.

"Don't fight them?" He asked, brows winging up.

You nodded jerkily, rising to your feet and planting your palms against his chest. After a moment, he allowed himself to be pushed to the back of the cage.

Just in time, too. The bars slid wide enough for a bowl of water and a bowl of half-raw meat to be slid through.

 

 

 

 

 

"Last meal, bitch."

The guard tromped off, keys jingling.

Dean barely had a moment to glance down at Y/N before she was on the food like an animal. Her fingers dug into the bowl of meat, scooping the ground mush into her mouth as quickly as possible.

When she'd licked the bowl clean, she dipped her face into the water bowl. Her throat worked as she sucked down every drop.

Dean's insides twisted again. He wanted to rage, to smash his fists into the bars.

They'd taken Y/N and they'd broken her. Made her into an animal that barely spoke. That was terrified of fighting back.

He watched her rise into a crouch, tongue swiping around her mouth as her eyes flicked up. Abruptly, she froze, looking, for all the world, apologetic.

She hung her head, chunks of hair falling around her ears and forehead.

Dean swallowed, reaching one hand out unthinkingly.

"Hey, it's okay. I liked my meat well-done, anyway."

Y/N dipped her head, eyeing his hand like it was a steel trap.

Slowly, she shuffled over; a yard away, a foot away, within inches. And then she stopped, shivering and quaking before pressing against the bars.

Dean's chest ached. She could touch him but he couldn't touch her. He knew why. Knew what they must've done to her.

Cas had told him some of it.

She was mostly animal, now. Her humanity all but beaten out. Her ability to trust had been ripped away. She operated on pure instinct now. Anything less would get her killed in a fight to the death.

So Dean started talking again, about whatever, anything and everything and tried not to notice how she flinched whenever he moved.

 

 

 

 

 

The Cage bell rang not long after you'd been fed.

Your body shot tense; muscles pulling taught as you prepared to be taken.

Dean was safe. He was human. A hunter, but human. They never made humans fight. They were too easy to kill.

The doors to the cells down the hall were opened one after another.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

The doors to your cage were opened. They hustled in, hands grasping your limbs tightly.

The leather collar that signified your status was slapped around your neck and fastened. The sounds of a scuffle broke out behind you.

Dean was fighting. You could hear him grunt with pain. You squeezed your eyes tight and tried not to think about what they would do to him.

The jeering of the crowd grew louder and louder with every moment. Music thudded through the air. The scents of alcohol, sex, adrenaline, and blood rode heavy on the air.

Yowls, wails, screams, and howls sounded as matches wore on. There were ' _boo's_ ' and hisses, triumphant yells and victorious rounds of applause.

The Cage was your home.

The cement floor was slick with blood already. The bars were stained red with it. Jagged furrows had been gouged into the floor by many claws. The sticky floor was warm in some places, cold in others.

You alternated between shapes; sometimes human and sometimes not.

Your fangs dripped with bloodied saliva, your claws had skin and gristle trapped beneath them. You were bleeding from a handful of cuts and bites. Your strength was waning quickly. The lights overhead were blinding. Sweat trickled down your face and into your eyes. It made the cuts sting. The calls of the crowd had your ears aching. Your heart hammered in your chest.

The gates of the Cage opened and your next opponent was thrust inside.

Your heart stopped cold.


	5. Chapter 5

Y/N was unrecognizable.

She was covered in blood and other things. Her chest heaved and her eyes flashed.

She paced round the Cage like a trapped animal. Cuts sliced across her arms, torso, and legs. There were bite-wounds peppered over her shoulders and upper arms. One leaked a steady stream of blood from her neck.

When she spotted Dean, her pacing ceased. She flattened herself against the bars. Her Y/E/C eyes widened as she shook her head.

 _Shit this was bad_.

Dean had prayed to Cas when they'd shown up to take Y/N. He'd prayed through every goddamn match he'd fought through. Thing was, he had no way of knowing whether or not Cas had heard him. Praying only worked one way, after all.

Dean palmed the knife he'd been given.

The metal was some fusion of iron, silver, and steel. It had worked on the werewolf, the fairy, the shapeshifter, and even the ghost. Now that had been a bitch of a fight.

The bell rang overhead, making Dean's ears ache.

The spectators jeered loudly, throwing bets and insults and jabs. But Dean's feet were glued to the floor again. He watched Y/N shake her head, fangs receding and claws disappearing. She wasn't going to fight him; and that made his heart glow and simultaneously shatter.

He'd been witness to what happened when a creature refused to fight.

Just then, something silvery flashed and Y/N hissed, spinning and spitting. The needle was withdrawn swiftly before she could catch it. The drugs worked quickly.

Dean watched as her skin shivered. He watched her pupils dilate and her fangs run out again. She dropped to all fours, claws digging into the cement with a screeching noise as she fought the effects.

"Y/N," Dean took a deep breath, course of action plotted.

Those Y/E/C eyes flicked up, half crazed with the need for violence.

Dean took a step closer, raising his hand with the knife in it. Her eyes tracked the movement. Her muscles tensed before she flung herself back, against the bars again. And again, the needle was administered. The double dose of whatever the hell it was had a more obvious effect this time.

Her eyes rolled back briefly as she quaked. Dean steeled himself and launched his body toward her.

Shouts and jeers grew deafening. Y/N flinched before her eyes went blank.

Claws slashed into his arms, his chest. Fangs snapped inches from his face. He fell, skull smacking into the cement. Y/N followed him down, teeth bared in a snarl, animal overtaking human.

Dean could feel blood seeping through his shirt. The skin of his stomach was shredded, a mess of flesh and red. He could feel his heart pumping slower and slower. The crowd's calling seemed to dim and fade.

Y/N crouched over him, face wet with tears even as his blood painted her lips.

 

 

 

Dean laid beneath you.

His head lolled to the side, pulse beating faintly in his throat. Wetness slicked your face and dripped down your cheeks. Blood coated the inside of your mouth; hot and coppery.

His blood. _Dean's_.

Dimly, you heard the sounds of the crowd change. The jeers and shouts turned into screams and cries. Light flashed and loud, cracking pops made your ears hurt.

The doors of the Cage were wrenched wide. You flattened your body over Dean's to shield him from any more harm. Fur replaced skin as you shifted. Your ears pressed flat against your skull. A loud, warning yowl escaped from between your teeth.

A man, tall with broad shoulders and dark hair appeared. Blue eyes flashed with power as he took stock of the Cage. A long, silver blade was clutched between his slender fingers. When he spotted Dean underneath you, the weapon raised along with his other hand.

Words fell from his lips, interspersed with your name. How did he know your name? Your mind tried to dredge up memories. You focused on the now, snarling as the man stalked closer. Something pricked your thigh. You barely gave it any thought at all until dizzy drowsiness pulled at your limbs and eyelids.

_No!_

_Protect, protect, protect._

_Dean._


	6. Chapter 6

Dean awakened slowly.

The first thing he did was take stock of himself and his surroundings.

It was instinctual after years of hunting. He never knew what, exactly, he was going to wake up to.

The air was cool; but smelled familiar, like old books and faint traces of soap. The surface beneath him was soft and hugged every inch of him from heel to head. Something warm and heavy was draped over his feet and shins.

He hurt. There was a dull, throbbing ache in his middle that matched the steady beat of his heart. But other than that, he felt perfectly fine.

It was quiet; the only noises were that of his breath and the faint sound of voices somewhere.

Slowly, Dean opened his eyes and took a deep breath. The warmth over his lower legs shifted abruptly.

The movement made him jump and cry out as the pain in his middle burned hot until he stilled.

A large, tawny-colored creature quaked at the foot of his bed. Its fur was matted with blood, cuts and bite-wounds peppered its hide. Long whiskers quivered as it sniffed the air delicately. The fur on its back suddenly rose, a threatening growl rumbled low in its throat as the door to Dean's room opened.

Sam burst in, gun up and aimed for the creature.

Not a creature, Dean realized. It was Y/N.

Those were her eyes in that face.

Cas was right on Sam's heels. The angel's hair was mussed and his face looked drawn and pale.

Y/N planted herself in between Dean and the doorway. Her body was shaking wildly. Dean saw her claws dig into the fabric of his blanket.

"Y/N," Dean quietly whispered. Her ears twitched back toward his voice. "Hey, Y/N. It's okay. You know them. That's-That's Sam. And Cas."

Dean's voice broke a little.

"You know them. They're good guys."

The scary growling noise that issued from her throat petered out. Carefully, she took a step back, and then another, and another, until she was perched on Dean's other side. The blankets dipped beneath her weight slightly. Her eyes remained trained on the two intruders with laser-like focus.

"We heard you yell." Sam muttered, lowering his arms.

Dean shrugged.

"Woke up a little foggy. Y/N startled me. I moved wrong. Guess I'm still not in tip-top shape, huh?"

Cas shot him a guilty look.

"I healed you to the best of my ability. I'm afraid I'm...Exhausted after the fight with the witches."

Dean sat up a little straighter, ignoring the twinges. Unthinkingly, he reached out and laid a hand on Y/N's flank. Her body stiffened up violently. But, after a moment, Dean felt her relax into his touch. Warmth flared through him at the gesture. She trusted him enough to let him touch her. It was small, but he'd take it.

"How did we do?"

Sam looked away. That was not good.

"We lost the Clearwaters. Lauren and Owen. They, ah, got hit first off. A few more hunters got banged up pretty bad. Most are okay, though. The angels cleared the whole place out. Seriously, there's nothing but a pile of ash, now."

Pride and dark pleasure lanced through Dean.

"Good." He released a pent-up breath and glanced down at Y/N.

Her eyes were still stuck on Sam and Cas, but she'd stopped shaking so bad. Dean could feel bones beneath her fur. Mats stuck to his fingertips when he stroked his hand down her side.

"How come Y/N's still all banged up?"

"She wouldn't let any of us near her, let alone touch her. It was a miracle I was able to heal you to a degree while she was semi-lucid. She had proven to be...Quite animalistic in her ferocity." Cas admitted.

"I could sedate her again if you want her somewhere else." Sam offered.

Dean jerked, gaze flying up to his brother's. Y/N felt Dean tense and immediatly began shaking once more; a low growl trickling between her teeth. He gently brushed his hand down her back. The small action seemed to calm her a little.

"No. She's been through enough." Dean winced as he shifted around on the bed. "Maybe, uh, I am hungry. And Y/N probably is, too."

Judging from the way she'd wolfed that meat down back there and the way her bones stuck out she'd been going hungry for a long time.

"God, I probably need a shower, too." Dean groaned, leaning up to swing his feet over the edge of the bed.

He teetered a little, hand pressing over his wound. Something butted against his knee and thigh, steadying him. Y/N's flank brushed over his leg.

 

 

The two strange men left then.

Dean carefully picked his way across the room and retrieved some piles of fabric. _Clothes_ , you remembered the word. You hadn't had any in a long time. They'd never given you any. It was hard to shift and fight in clothes.

The door opened beneath his hand and you padded after him.

"You're not gonna let me out of your sight, are you?" He asked, glancing down.

You chuffed, shaking your head slightly.

As the two of you walked down the hall, Dean chattered at you. His voice eased you a little. In no time, he'd had a door open and was shuffling inside. There were silver fixtures in the walls; separate cubby-holes with patchy-floors. _Tiles_ , that was the word. Tiled floors. There was also a large bowl-type thing in one corner.

Dean dropped his armload on a counter-top and pulled his shirt off over his head with a hiss.

You scuttled beneath the counter and curled into the corner. It was a safe place. You could see most of the room from there and the only way anyone could get to you was by ducking underneath.

Steam quickly filled the room, heating up the air and making you warm. It was a change from the near frigid temperatures your cage had been.

Metal scraped against metal as the cloth over the shower was drawn wide. Dean stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hand. He moved out of your line of sight to dress. Then, he was at the counter, sink running overhead. There was a muffled clunking noise. The scent of blood on Dean's skin had been washed away. He smelled like soap and something that was uniquely _him_. It was warm and earthy and not at all unpleasant.

"Y/N?" Dean murmured, turning to glance around.

You made a small noise in the back of your throat to indicate where you were hiding. Dean crouched, one knee popping as he ducked his head to peer beneath the counter.

"Hey, there." He slowly offered his hand.

You sniffed it delicately before slipping your head against his fingers. His fingertips caught at the mats in your fur a little painfully. Regardless, it felt nice. Lost in the comforting gesture, you felt your body relax and reshape itself.

Dean made a sharp noise and then his hand was gone.

Your eyes flew wide as you curled in on yourself.

The space was considerably smaller now that you were human. Your spine and neck pressed against the cold stone; your knees were shoved to your chest. Your calm disappeared with Dean's hand.

"Hey, hey, it's fine, you just startled me is all." Dean rushed out.

Startled him? Confusion swirled before the pieces clicked in your head.

That's right. You were different from him. You were a creature, a monster. He was human, a hunter. Your shifting like that _would_ have startled him.

You curled in closer to the wall when he reached out again. You didn't want to scare him. You didn't want to hurt him. But you already had. The signs of your attack in the Cage had been partially healed by Dean's dark-haired companion. But, still, small red lines bisected the skin of his arms and his neck. There were a few across his cheek, too. And you knew that you had nearly killed him.

He still moved gingerly, as though every move pained him. And it was your fault.

You were broken. A monster. A menace.

Something wet slid down your face.

Dean's face crumpled, his hand retreating. Without a sound, he settled onto the cold floor and began talking again.

"You know, uh, I don't know how much you understand right now. Like, of what I'm saying."

You watched him from the corner of your eye, head tucked against your arms.

"But that's okay. 'Cause I'm happy to just keep talkin' until you want me to stop. And I really want you to know some stuff."

The steam and warmth was slowly dissipating.

"We never stopped searching for you, Y/N. Sam, he, uh, brought it up. But I just couldn't do it. I just knew you were out there somewhere. I could feel it, you know? I missed you. A lot." Dean's voice had gotten gruffer. "All I could think about was getting you back, even when we were on other hunts. And then we came across a demon that'd seen you. Spilled the beans about the witches and the stuff they were doing. Cas went on a recon mission. He said...Said that you weren't human anymore-"

Your voice was raspy and harsh when you found it.

"Monster."

Dean's head jerked up in your periphery. His hands balled up on his thighs. More wetness slid down your face.

"No, Y/N, you...You're just-"

"Almost kill you." You shuddered, drawing tighter into a ball. "Monster."

A hand touched your bare shoulder. You flinched so hard your skull cracked against the underside of the sink.

"No. Well, yeah. But, Y/N, I goaded you into attacking. I wasn't sure if Cas was coming and there was no way I could kill you, no matter what the witches had made you. I would rather die than hurt you."

That had your head pulling up again as you shook it wildly. Words failed to come to mind as you choked out noises of panic.

Dean was _good_. He protected you. You needed to protect him, even from yourself.

Warm hands banded around your upper arms as thumbs soothed over the skin there. The fear coursing through your veins slowly dissipated; leaving you shaking in Dean's hands as he murmured quietly.

Very, very gingerly, you touched the fingertips of your hand over his belly and lifted your gaze.

"Keep you safe. Not hurt again."

Dean's eyes went soft. The corners of his mouth dipped as a thousand different things swam through his gaze. After he'd cleared his throat, he spoke.

"It's okay, and as long as I'm around, no one will hurt you either."

You took a shuddering breath and nodded once.

One of Dean's hands left its place on your arm and picked at your hair.

"I think we should get you clean and check those cuts out. You gonna be okay with that?"

You hadn't really given much thought to the blood and dirt griming over your skin. When they'd wanted you clean, they'd hosed you off in the Cage. The mention of water had you tensing up again. But this was Dean. Dean wouldn't be like them.

You nodded again. Dean offered you a small smile and rolled to his knees. He held his arms out.

"Come on, I promise you're in good hands."

Slowly, you slid out from beneath the counter. It was brighter without the shadows. The light made your eyes hurt a little as you crouched low to the ground. Very, very carefully, your fingers brushed over Dean's palm. With the same sort of slow caution, he pulled you to your feet.

The floor was cool beneath your toes. Dean bent next to the faucet that stuck out from the wall and twisted some silver knobs. Water shot out from the faucet and despite yourself, fear pounded through your chest.

Your legs carried you backward as water pounded down. It was too much like the hose.

Memories bombarded your brain; water flooding your mouth and eyes as the hose was turned to you. The pressure was so great sometimes, it drove you to your knees if you didn't get to the bars in time. The blood and gristle and dirt would be scrubbed away by the sheer force of it. The temperature so cold it left you shivering for hours.

Dimly you heard the sound of the water cut out. Warm hands rubbed trails up and down your arms as a voice murmured.

"Shh, shh."

You blinked carefully.

"Dean?"

Green eyes held your own. There were brown spots across his nose and cheeks, the tiny dots were...There was a word you could not remember. It frustrated you.

"Yeah. 'M right here. Listen, we can get you into the tub, okay? Will that work?"

"Tub?"

"Yeah. That thing right there. You gonna be okay with that?"

Tub. Like a bath. The big bowl. You would be able to tolerate it, you were almost certain.

Dean relaxed a little at your nod.

"All right then, let's do this."


End file.
